The Perks of Being a Wallcrawler
by MujakiX
Summary: Peter Parker is your average sixteen year old kid growing up in Queens. He goes to school, cooks with his Aunt at home... and he also happens to be a friendly neighborhood superhero! His life was turned on its head after his uncle's tragic death, and now that he's bagged his first supervillain, things are sure to get easier... right?


_My name is Peter Parker… and I'm going to be late._

Normally I'd have plenty of time for a jaunt to the Upper East Side to stop a bank robbery and back with enough time to pick up a bite to eat before U.S. History — _gotta love Tony's_ — but today just wasn't going to be that day.

I have this neat little app on my phone, clues me in to all kinds of crime, and right before Chemistry it picked up a robbery. A robbery that had escalated into a high-speed chase through Midtown, and ended with me further south than I intended to go...and I only had so much time to make it back across the bridge, and get my butt planted in a seat before Mr. Bellew could start his lecture.

-incoming text from Nee-Ed Led-Sah… would you like me to read it to you?-

 _Ugh, I need to work on that pronunciation algorithm._ "Sure thing."

-Nee-Ed says… Dude, where. Are. You? Lunch ends in Five-Teen minutes.-

 _I'll get the codebreakers on that one. Awesome._

It wasn't the first time the AI that Ned and I tried to fork into my suit's meager electronics suite had glitched on names. Ned had the brilliant idea of wiring a small speaker into my mask so the on-board CPU could read me texts while on patrol. It turns out the digital assistant he st— _commandeered_ did a lot of computation on the backend and without a connection to the StarkOS servers, our AI was dumber than a Speak-n-Spell.

I should amend that… a Speak-n-Spell could get English right most of the time.

 _Fifteen minutes, I can do this._ I pulled to one side to steer around a building and started zipping alongside the East River, ignoring the random shouts of the rare passersby who happened to be looking up as I trekked towards the bridge.

Until I saw the smoke.

So much for fifteen minutes. With a quick flip, I let the web-line I'd used to control my fall slip free and planted myself on a nearby traffic light to assess the scene. A van had taken the curb too fast and toppled over on one side, spilling its cargo of— _ugh, diet_ —soda all over the street. A couple of nearby merchants had dropped their wares to come and try to help the driver out of his vehicle… and more than a few had decided it was a fantastic time to get a few free crates of soda.

 _Stay classy, New York._ "Alright, folks! I'm going to have to ask you to set those delicious, possibly carcinogenic beverages down."

"It's Spider-Man! RUN!" At least people recognized me now. All it took was taking down a crazy person who wanted to set Broadway on fire.

 _Time to be a hero._

 _Thwip!_ One box down and the big, bald guy who was holding it didn't look twice before running away. I turned my attention to two — _Thwip! Thwip!_ —old ladies who had the audacity to start scolding me for webbing up their handbags alongside the merchandise they'd been trying to haul away a few seconds before.

"I'm sorry! Don't steal stuff!" I said as I sailed over their heads. My feet firmly on the ground, I listened for the heavy sloshing sounds of any other would-be thieves before I leaped up to the side of the van. "Do you need any help?"

"There's smoke in the cab! I think he's stuck!" A man, a hot dog vendor by the look of his apron and paper cap twisted askew on his head, wheezed as he struggled to kick the windshield.

"Let me help you." The hot dog guy stepped aside as I crawled over to the upturned door and tried to open it the old-fashioned way, feeling slightly disappointed when the latch refused to work. _Oh well, I can't say I didn't try._ "Sir, I'm going to pull the door off. Try to stand up!"

I felt _movement_ beneath my fingertips as the driver righted himself in the cab, so I took that as a "Yes!" and dug my fingers into the doorframe to make my own grip. My shoulders tightened for a split second and with a harsh, metallic shriek, the door pulled apart like paper in my hands. I tossed it behind me and webbed it to the upturned side of the van before reaching into the cab for the driver. "Alright, everyone out of the boat!"

After making sure the driver was clear and unharmed, if a little rattled, I gave the nozzle of one of my web shooters a quick twist before I matted down the fire in the cabin with a few well-placed globs of webbing and yanked the key out of the ignition for good measure. The blissful sound of sirens quickly approaching meant I could step back and take a breath before scooting my Spider tush over to the bridge and—

 **CRASH!**

A pane of glass shattered somewhere to my right, barely audible over the noise of the crowd around the van, the sound of screeching tires as the local paddy wagons came to a stop, and the dying wail of the ambulance as the EMTs hit the scene. I tilted my head for a moment and focused, waiting until I heard the sound of **shuffling, papers hitting the ground, metal raking against tile…**

 _There_.

"Thank you, officers!" I waved to a puzzled member of New York's Finest as I made a quick jump from van to the roof of the ambulance to a nearby fire escape where I zeroed in on the source of the noises… a bodega just around the corner. Another short hop from ladder to asphalt and I was right outside the shop, where I poked my head inside to find a a curious scene.

A skinny man in sweatpants, a black and green striped shirt, and an honest-to-Thor domino mask had decided to take advantage of the bodega owner being a good samaritan and was in the process of shoving cigarette cartons into a canvas sack. A small part of me was genuinely impressed at the sheer audacity of someone using a car wreck to pull off a misdemeanor or two, but I figured this had gone on long enough — the bodega owner was still chatting with the police and this guy had nabbed all of the cigarettes and was going after the corn dogs now. "Fancy meeting you here."

"Ahh!" The thief shrieked, cartons and fried burritos tumbling out of his arms as he hopped around to face me. "Alright who's the wisegu—AHHHH!"

"I think you said that already." I said helpfully. "You know it's wrong to steal, right?"

"Uh… I work here?" You know, as excuses went, it was at least one I hadn't heard before.

"Is that the standard uniform for"—I glanced towards the cash wrap and spied a business card wedged into the register's display—"Eugenio's Fine Grocers?"

"Um…"

"So what do I call you?" I should've taken pity on this poor guy, but a little notoriety goes a long way in scaring someone straight. "You've got a mask and you've got a costume. What's your name?"

"A name?" It was almost painful to watch this guy fumble around like a puppy. A very dumb puppy.

"Yeah. All of you supervillains have names to go with the costume. What is it?"

The thief had gone white as a sheet and big beads of sweat dotted the exposed part of his forehead. "Uh... no. just... y'know... didn't want to get identified."

"Huh. You are actually the first sensible criminal I've run into in a while."

"Thanks!"

"But not sensible enough to NOT do crime."

"Oh." He deflated, dropping the last of his cache on the ground. "How 'bout this? I leave this stuff here and you can let me go?"

"'Fraid not."

"Come on, man!"

"Dude, you're the one who decided to do a crime!" I waved my hand towards the broken dispenser and literal bag of loot in his arms. "Now give me a name."

"How about you can call me... um... the Looter?" If I squinted, I could almost see the hamster wheel turning in his brain. I hoped it had enough water.

"Are you asking me or telling me?"

"I'm telling you."

"Okay, you're The Looter." The Looter's grin was short-lived as I webbed his feet to the ground. "And now you're busted."

"... aw, man."

"It's better than Stilt-Man!" I said, jogging out the door and with a quick thwip! I was airborne, only just catching his final words as I sailed over the midday traffic.

"You're making that up!"

Just another day in the life of being Spider-Man.

* * *

"You were fifteen minutes late."

"I know."

"Mr. Bellew was giving your desk the side-eye until you showed up."

"I know."

"He's gonna call May if it keeps happening, Pete."

"I know!" The last thing I needed was another teacher complaining about my attendance, even if it was coming on the heels of my GPA landing me on the top of the class for the previous year. "I just got caught up, Ned."

"That happens a _lot_ , dude." Ned's voice had a concerned edge to it. "We need to work out a better system."

Ned Leeds is my oldest friend and probably the biggest nerd on the planet. Half a head taller than me, dark-skinned, and heavy-set, Ned gleefully enjoyed living up to the stereotype when it suited him. We had known each other since elementary school, nearly ten years now (which is a lot when you're only sixteen). He's the only person I know who could eat my lunch when it came to coding and computer science, not to mention the fact he's one of only two people in the world who knew about my secret. To be fair, it wasn't as though I had planned to tell him, but I hadn't realized just how stressed going out and being a friendly neighborhood superhero was making me.

So when he sounds _concerned_ , I listen. "What did you have in mind?"

"Well, I'm thinking that we either need a stronger on-board processor for the suit's diction program or we totally scrap an AI for now and just try to fork an extension of your phone for the earpiece."

It didn't take much to get Ned excited and his eyes were alight with the possibilities. So were mine, if I were to be perfectly honest. "Let's build around my phone, since that's easier to deal with. And I can ask my boss if I can go through his slush pile after work tomorrow."

"Sweet! I can be The Guy In The Chair for you when you're out, you know." He curled his fingers and mimed how I use my web shooters. "Besides, I want to get a camera in that thing so you can go over your technique."

"My technique?"

"Yeah, you know, practice makes perfect after all."

"Ned, I don't think it's something you can just practice anywhere."

"Petey! You can practice anything, you oughta know that by now!" A big arm slides around my shoulder as Kong made his way between Ned and me, sidestepping around a haughty looking blonde wearing a mink collar jacket. "I'm guessing, uh, 'lunch' went well today?"

Kenny Kong was my _other_ best friend, joining Ned and I at the designated "loser's" lunch table when we were in the fifth grade. As short as me and wider than Ned, he probably had it the worst among us when it came to the other kids giving him crap because his Mom would always pack a distinctly not-American lunch that smelled pretty good to me, but made the other kids squeamish.

Kids suck sometimes, just saying.

Kong had the last laugh, though, since he shot up about a foot between seventh and eighth grade and now he tosses his old bullies up and down the football field when he isn't hanging out at my house. "It went well." I mused.

"Too well." Ned deadpanned as he gave me the eye. "Pete was late to class. Again."

"Dude.." Kong gave me a pained look.

"I know! It's a conspiracy, I swear." Kong raised an eyebrow at that, but I pressed on. "You know I can't just… walk away when someone needs help."

"Maybe we just need to coordinate better. I'll ask Coach for some tips."

"That's what I've been saying! Pete needs to train or practice or something. We can figure it out."

"If this keeps up, they're gonna tell May. And then you'll be stuck at home instead of doing the thing." Kong settled one big hand on my shoulder and gave me a shake. "Come on, we'll work it out. In the meantime" Kong raised both arms over his head and gave a mighty yawn. "I need to head out to practice. Dinner at your house tomorrow, Petey?"

"Of course! You know Aunt May loves having you two over."

"Aw, she sure knows how to make a boy feel special." Ned leered with his eyes crossed and I couldn't help but smile despite my eyes rolling into the back of my head.

"Amen to that." Kong said as he started jogging off. "See you later!"

"You two are gonna kill me one day." I huffed. "I swear. How do you even practice being… well, you know?"

With Kong gone, Ned fell into step beside me. His tone was surprisingly serious when he spoke again. "We'll figure something out. I think the idea is, well, the opposite of getting you killed. Nabbing that Mysterio guy was the proof of concept, Pete. You don't need to do this alone anymore."

I looked down at my hands for a moment and for a moment I remembered the cloyingly sweet scent of Beck's stage fog cluttering up his lab.

"Yeah. I know."

* * *

"Peter! Are the boys coming over tonight?"

"Nah, Aunt May. They'll be over tomorrow." I shuffled inside and threw my bookbag on the well-worn couch in the living room before slumping over next to it. "Kenny's got practice and Ned's tied up playing some new game with that online friend of his."

"Aww. No gym tonight?" May poked her head out from the kitchen, her long, brown hair tied in a knot on the top of her head and flour dusting her nose just below her heavy glasses. "I was making some of those bran muffins for you and Kenny for… oh, what does Ed call it?"

"Glycogen replenishment?"

"Yes! That!" May walked over to the couch and gave me a quick squeeze and a peck on the top of my head. "Oh, honey! You look exhausted. I know the two of you have been working hard, but you really need to get some rest."

I was tired, but I figured it was mainly the lingering stress of the day. "I will."

"You promise?"

"I promise."

"I'm going to hold you to that?" She said, a hint of mischief in her voice. "And I have some good news for you too."

"Oh?" I sat up, feeling my back pop in about six places as I did so. Maybe she's got the right idea about this whole "rest" thing.

"You got a letter!" May pulled an envelope from a pocket on her apron, grinning like a particularly satisfied cat. "And it's from upstate…"

"Let me see it!" The envelope was an unassuming blue, the return address from a Mid-County Medical Center near Westchester… "Oh, it's from Jess!"

"I thought that would perk you up." I didn't even have to look at May to know she was pleased. "Dinner will be done soon, so don't pour over it too much. Besides, you need to chat with Ed tonight — it's been ages since the two of you have talked."

 _Ugh… maybe Ned and Kong have a point about my time management skills._ "I'll do it tonight."

"Go do it _now_." May's voice was firm. "Are you mad at Ed? Is that why I've been getting texts telling me 'Oh, May, Peter hasn't texted me in almost a week! Is everything okay?' You need to talk to her."

"Guilt trip much?"

"Is it working?"

"Too well."

"Good. Go call your sister. I think a letter from Miss Campbell can wait for a few minutes."

"Fiiiine." I drawled, rolling my eyes at May's smirk as she went back to the kitchen. Still, she and Edie had a point — I let time get away from me and everyone was noticing. _Note to self… tell Ned and Kong that they are free to say "Told you so!" for the next week._ Still, a letter from Jess and getting poked by Edie on the same day. I'd call it luck, but I suppose that depends on your definition of "luck".

 _The guys will be happy, I'm sure._ Jessica Campbell, the last member of our little band of misfits to join up with us, making her way to our lunch table in the seventh grade. If I was the shortest one compared to Ned and Kong, then Jess was positively teeny, barely coming up to my nose. And she stayed tiny, even when we got to high school and Kong had long since left Ned and I in the dust as far as height was concerned. She was all goofy smiles, bad home hairdos — I felt her pain there when Aunt May decided to try and give me a haircut one day in the eighth grade and ended up buzzing most of it off — and glasses even chunkier than mine used to be. If Ned was the biggest nerd on the face of the Earth, then Jess was probably the biggest _geek_ , gleefully coming over on Saturday afternoons to watch old B-movies with me and Uncle Ben.

And then her parents died in the same car accident that put her in a coma. Ben had been helping an Aunt of hers arrange for Jess' transfer to a long-term clinic when…

Well, it was a rough month.

My bed had never felt so enticing in my life, but I had other things to do. One thing in particular. A thingy thing. _Oh, quit putting it off, Peter! She's not going to be mad at you._

Well, she wouldn't be especially happy either. "No time like the present." I muttered as I pulled up her number and shot off a text.

Edie responded almost immediately. -lil' bro! where hav u been?!-

-I'm sorry! I got caught up.-

-u seeing a girl?-

-No, not since the last time you asked.-

-fine fine. R u busy?-

-Waiting for dinner. You gonna call?-

My phone lit up, a picture of Edie grabbing me in a headlock shining in the dark. _Never change, Ed._ "Hello?"

"Petey! It's been way, way too long!" All I saw was a mop of strawberry blonde hair for a split second before Edith Brock came on screen, blue eyes wide and a toothy grin on her face. "Have you been avoiding me?"

"Of course not! I was just kinda doing… stuff."

"Stuff? More important stuff than letting your sis know you're alive?"

"It's not that bad, is it?"

"Petey, I had to ask May what you were up to. Have you even seen my latest video?"

Edie had a fairly successful YouTube channel where she liked to share nutrition tips, proper form for stretching, and live workouts. Edie was also a six foot tall blonde, which probably lead to a significant, um, periphery demographic that helped her pay the bills. "Not yet. Shoot me a link?"

"For you, bro? Anything."

* * *

I rolled back into my room after supper and flopped face first into my bed, stuffed full of meatloaf and ready to pass out for a few hours. Maybe eight hours… actually, a nice week of hibernation sounds nice right about now.

 **Ding!**

Or not. I reached into my pocket and blearily looked at my phone, a text notification from Ned flashing redly on-screen.

-Pete! You need to take a look at this. Seriously.-

 _Huh_. Ned had sent me a link to PeekABoo, one of the streaming channels he followed. This had better not be another cosplayer.

-Not this time. Look at it.-

I tapped on the link and it opened up to a landing page that blinded me for a second due to the garish off-white and pink design all over the place. Which matched the cheesy grin of the girl on the video, her red lipstick smile being the only visible part of her face. The rest was hidden behind a reflective yellow visor that looked as though it had been hastily mashed together with a sleek bicycle helmet. A cheapo white windbreaker jacket, matching gloves, and what looked like pink yoga pants that tapered to white running shoes completed the ensemble. After admiring herself for a moment the costumed girl tilted her camera so a convenience store was just barely visible behind her.

"Good evening to all my new fans out there! For those of you who don't know who I am, well you're about to!" She hefted a brick into frame and that cheesy grin grew even wider. "Welcome one and all to the exploits of the world's first live-streaming supervillain, SCREWBALL!"

When the glass window shattered and the live view counter shot up, I just knew my luck had finally come due.

* * *

 **Up Next… Issue #2 ALIENATOR VI: THE AWAKENING!**


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